


what we do best

by katyfaise



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-31
Updated: 2013-10-31
Packaged: 2017-12-31 00:58:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1025459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katyfaise/pseuds/katyfaise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Don’t apologize, Grace," he says pointedly, pulling away from her. "Rich girls never apologize."</p>
            </blockquote>





	what we do best

There have been too many near death experiences in her life and her ears are still ringing from the gun shots but there’s one though in her mind, one name on her tongue. Thomas Shelby. He’s her end. Her middle. Her beginning. She chipped away the ice and fell in love with a criminal with a heart of stone - no, he’s more than ice cold eyes and a steady head. He is hers. He is what she rushes toward from the train station. His are the strong arms that catch her as she crumbles in front of him. She is out of breath and at a loss for words but Thomas says nothing. Campbell was right about only one thing - her own heart was broken now. A million pieces that could not be so easily fixed and she was sure they matched the pieces of Tommy’s. “What are you doing here, Grace?”

She pauses and looks around the Garrison; it’s where she knew she was in too deep. “I lied to you.”

Tommy sighs heavily. Of course she lied just like a dog. “I know,” he responds, voice simple.

Grace tries to fight the tears but they fall and she curses herself. She is not some weak woman, she prides herself on the strength her heart holds but Tommy Shelby has ruined it. Ruined her. “No, I lied about leaving you,” she quickly murmurs, testing the waters as she reaches to caress his cheek. When he doesn’t flinch away, she allows her fingertips to gracefully brush his lips. “I couldn’t leave. Not now. Not ever.” For a brief moment she closes her eyes and memories wash over her mind.

"I’m sorry," she whispers but Tommy grasps her arms, lithe fingers wrapping around her skinny arms. He kisses her and for once, everything feels right. It’s like they’re in the chapel again, his lips tenderly brushing hers.

"Don’t apologize, Grace," he says pointedly, pulling away from her. "Rich girls never apologize." He lets her loose and tips his hat. Before she realizes, he is gone - back onto the street that is ruled by the Peaky Blinders; the streets she’d returned to.

—

It’s days later, when Grace has given up any hope of a reconciliation, that she quietly packs her belongings into boxes. The red dress she’d worn to the races still hangs on the bathroom door, and it’s a reminder of the past and of what she’d lost. She wishes the phonograph worked so being alone with her thoughts wouldn’t be as painful but there’s no music to fill the space and it’s nearly as empty as her heart.

The knock on the door startles her, and she places the books carefully in the box in front of her. When she turns the locks and opens the door only to see Tommy on the other side, her heart stops. “Hello, Thomas,” she quickly greets, trying her best to remain as calm as possible.

"I was in the neighborhood. Though I’d -" he doesn’t finish his sentence, because his knees give out and Grace barely catches him as he falls forward.

"Tommy, what’s happened?" 

She pulls her hand away, and there’s blood, fresh and red, on her pale fingertips. Grace looks out into the hallway before pulling him inside the apartment.

—

When Tommy comes around the next day, he wakes to find Grace curled under a blanket at the foot of the bed. He sighs and tries to sit up, but ends up groaning as the pain shoots through his body. The noise rouses Grace and immediately she stumbles off of the bed, sleep still present in her eyes. 

"Don’t move much. I don’t want you to open the wound," she commands, and Tommy leans back. "What happened, Tommy?"

He absently rubs his forehead but then glances at her. “Some Italian attacked me. They’d seen Danny around. Guess they figured it out.”

"He’s dead now though. Doesn’t matter much," she says, though her words seem to wound him. "I’m sorry."

Tommy shrugs as best as he can and moves to sit up again. “Don’t. You were stabbed, and the wound is deep. I stitched you up as best I could, but I’m no doctor. You’ll pull the wound open if you don’t stay still.”

Grace pushes him down, fingers brushing the same shoulders she had bruised weeks ago as pleasure rushed through her body. “I know this is the last place you want to be, but just rest,” she mutters, rifling through the sheets to check his wound.

"That’s not true. I came to you for a reason. I wanted to see you just in case.."

She pauses, and Tommy reaches for her hand. Grace sits on the edge of the bed, her body radiating near his. For a moment his fingers linger on her palm but he slowly slinks his hand toward the bottom of her slip, bunching the fabric up until he can reach underneath. He finds her center - hot and wet and already pulsing for the way he touches her. A moan escapes her lips, and she leans forward, instinctively pushing herself further onto his hand. 

Grace lets Tommy massage her clit, deftly pressing hard each time she moans or her hips rock in response. It’s not long before she orgasms, her vision going white as she grabs a hold of the sheets to keep her from falling. 

She takes a deep breath and pulls the sheet away from his waist. Quickly, Grace unbuttons his trousers and pulls them away, careful not to harm him. Grace can feel his eyes on her, watching each movement as she lowers herself onto his hardened cock. Tommy grasps her legs, fingers digging into the fleshy underside as she slowly rocks her hips forward, pushing him deeper into her core. He tries to move, tries to assert his control, but Grace’s fingers dig into his chest.

"Just… let me.. let me do this, Tommy," she pleads, her voice broken. He relents and instead reaches up to grope her breasts and massage the firm flesh. Grace throws her head back, speeding her movements up slightly, and she rides him without mercy. This is their catharsis - the only way to fix what they had both broken.

Grace pushes his cock deeper until she can take no more, until her hips spasm with release and her walls tighten around him. She rides the wave of pleasure out until Tommy follows suit, moaning out words that force Grace to close her eyes and enjoy the moment.

"I love you."

But the moment passes and she rolls off of him and curls up, holding her knees tightly to her chest.

"Don’t lie, Thomas," she whispers, trying her best not to cry. She won’t allow him the honor of seeing her tears, or being the reason for them.

"Grace.." he begins, reaching out for her, but he hesitates, and instead pulls his hand away. She feels the bed shift, and though it’s against her best though, she doesn’t argue when Tommy slowly moves around the room to get dressed. 

"Lying’s what us Blinders do best."

It’s the last thing she hears before the apartment door closes behind him - before she sleeps drunk on his smell and the way his body left an indentation on the mattress beside her. 

It’s the last thing she’ll cherish in this shit town.


End file.
